Accidentally On Purpose
by pgrabia
Summary: Getting caught in a compromising situation leads Wilson into more trouble than he expected. Written for Camp Sick!Wilson 2011 @ Sick Wilson on LJ.  H/W slash est. relationship. AU. Gen. spoiler up to/including 6x22. Explicit sexuality/coarse language.


**Title: ****Accidentally On Purpose.**

**Author:** pgrabia

**Disclaimer:** House M.D., its character's, locations, and storyline are the property of David Shore, Bad Hat Harry Productions and Fox Television. All Rights Reserved.

**Characters/Pairing:** J. Wilson, G. House, L. Cuddy; House/Wilson slash, est. relationship.

**A/N:** This story is written as an entry for the **Camp Sick!Wilson 2011 Accidental Injury Challenge by Menolly_AU. **

**Prompts: **Falling/Flying object, puncture wound, in Cuddy's office.

**Genre:** sick!Wilson, AU, drama, help/comfort.

**Spoiler Alert: **General spoilers for Season 6 esp. episode 6x22 "Help Me". This fic deviates from Canon from the very last scene of ep. 6x22.

**Word Count:** ~3200

**Rating: NC-17 for smex, coarse language, and a temper tantrum.**

**Accidentally On Purpose**

"I don't think this is a good idea," Wilson panted when they interrupted their kissing long enough to breathe. "Cuddy could be back any minute."

House's long, gloriously nimble fingers were unbuttoning Wilson's fly and carefully pulling the zipper down over his engorged member. He had amazing hands that could drive Wilson crazy with desire as they were now. Wilson found himself being pushed backward slowly toward the sofa in Cuddy's office by House's body, which was pressed up flush against him.

"Good," House murmured before kissing him again. Then, "Maybe we can convince her to join us."

"Sure," Wilson responded and then gasped as House placed both hands on Wilson's hips to hold them in place and then ground his erect cock against his lover's. "S-she might go—oh, ohhh—for that, and Taub may learn to be—ah!—faithful to his next wife…but I doubt it—oh _god_, yes, _there_!"

They continued to inch toward the comfort of the sofa, House balancing himself against Wilson after having forsaken his cane the moment they broke snuck into the Dean of Medicine's office. House had moved the attention of his mouth from Wilson's lips to the spot right behind his ear, his scruff both tickling and irritating the tender skin there. Wilson moaned, his own hands traveling from House's waist to his buttocks which Wilson squeezed and kneaded, bringing groans out from deep in House's throat. One of House's hands moved up Wilson's torso to twist and play with his nipple while the other reached through the front flap of Wilson's underwear and grabbed his throbbing member, giving it a couple of teasing pulls. Wilson cried out in spite of himself, earning a satisfied smile from the other man.

"Don't worry about it," House murmured sensuously into his ear. "She's giving a fat-cat donor the grand tour and won't be back for at least another half-hour. Did you know that Cuddy and Lucas have never done it on this sofa? She's too uptight about it, he told me on that stakeout I went on with him. He said she insists that the propriety and professionalism of her office be preserved."

"And this is your version of revenge against the both of them?" Wilson whispered and then moaned when House gave his cock another pull.

"You have a problem with that?"

Wilson shook his head and grinned. "Not as long as you're doing it with me."

"_Only_ you," House whispered before covering Wilson's mouth with his own. Wilson felt his legs back into the sofa and before he knew it House was pushing him down onto the piece of furniture.

House laid over him, his hands tugging at Wilson's pants and boxers until they were over and past his ass. Wilson's hard cock sprung out, freed from the constraints of clothing.

"Mmm…you have too many clothes on, Dr. House," Wilson told him, grinning lustfully. "Allow me to provide the remedy for your condition!" He began to undo House's fly and soon had his jeans and boxers pulled down until they were at his ankles; House promptly kicked them off.

"This will be easier if you ride facing me," House told him. Agreeing with him, Wilson nodded and once House had removed himself from on top of him and sat up, Wilson prepared to straddle him.

"I don't suppose you remembered to bring any lube?" Wilson inquired.

"There's some in the bottom right drawer of Cuddy's desk," House told him and when Wilson flashed him an accusing look House defended, "Hey, Lucas has a big mouth; he didn't say anything about not doing it in her private bathroom."

"Let's just not talk about Cuddy and Lucas right now, shall we?" Wilson said, screwing up his face in distaste. He got off of House and went to the desk. Locating the tube of lubricant exactly where House had said it was, Wilson brought it back to the sofa with him. His cock was so hard it was starting to ache and begged for attention.

House took the lube, squeezed a generous amount into his hand then tossed the tube aside; he applied it to Wilson's opening and prepared him. Wilson butted up against House's fingers and moaned desperately.

"Impatient, are we?" House taunted, smirking smugly as he spread lube all over his cock. Wilson grabbed House's member in response and tugged. House growled in his throat with approval, his eyes nearly rolling into his head.

"I don't know," Wilson retorted, pleased with himself, "are _we_?"

"Get the fuck on me!" House panted. Wilson carefully straddled House, avoiding his bad leg as much as possible and lowered himself down onto his cock with House guiding him. Slowly Wilson allowed himself to be penetrated; the initial discomfort he normally experienced was forgotten quickly as his muscles closed around House's impressive girth. Gradually he lowered himself further; House was sheathed inside him completely, causing him to softly keen. Wilson's hands were on House's muscular shoulders, using them for support and leverage; he raised himself until only the head of House's cock was in him becoming down fast and deep again. Both of them vocalized their pleasure. They took it slow at first but then as they came closer to their climaxes their speed increased.

Each plunge and withdrawal brought out gasps, moans, and muttered profanity from them. They had established just the right angle for House to stroke against Wilson's prostate with every thrust. House's eyes were hooded; he looked up at Wilson with desire in his cobalt blues. He grabbed Wilson's neglected length and began to stroke it in rhythm with Wilson's motion. House couldn't help but lift his hips to meet Wilson's plunges. Both men were glistening with sweat that wet their shirts and dripped from their brows. Wilson bent forward and kissed House passionately, swallowing both of their moans and whimpers. His ride became desperately fast as he walked the edge and falling over it was imminent. He could tell that House was there as well. Two more plunges and House cried out unintelligibly as he came, his seed filling Wilson to overflowing. Feeling the spasms of House's ejaculation brought Wilson over as he cursed and murmured House's name, cum spurting in thick ropes from him all over House's shirt. He fell forward, his forehead coming to rest on House's shoulder, and panted hard.

"_OH MY GOD!_"

The inhuman shriek was courtesy of Lisa Cuddy after she stepped into her office with the donor only a step behind her. She spun around quickly and pushed the donor backward, slamming the door behind her.

Their afterglow was abruptly interrupted by the shriek; Wilson scrambled off of House's lap dazedly, his brain still not functioning completely following his orgasm. He stumbled over his pants wrapped around one of his ankles and fell bare ass over teakettle to the floor. House hurriedly pulled his jeans up and then pushed himself off of the sofa and to his feet, looking around the room for his cane. Wilson was still on his ass but he was stuffing his bare leg into the appropriate pant leg and yanking them up. He jumped to his feet, tucking his once-but-no-longer-crisply-pressed dress shirt under his waistband. He located his tie, wrapped it around his neck, and fumbled with tying it as he rushed.

House grabbed a handful of Kleenex out of the box on Cuddy's desk, wiping at cum stains on his red t-shirt.

"Fuck!" Wilson babbled hysterically. "She won't be back for half-an hour, you said! There is nothing to worry about, you said! We are so fired—I can see tomorrow morning's newspaper: _Gay doctors fired for rutting in boss's office._ And I really liked my job, House!"

"Shut up!" House snapped back, tossing a ball of soiled facial tissues into his best friend's face. "Freaking out is not going to solve anything."

"Oh really?" Wilson sneered, batting away the wad and staring at House with wide-eyed disbelief. "And you know what will?"

"I'm thinking," House responded, frowning in concentration. "I'll come up with something."

"Great," Wilson said bitterly, sighing resignedly; he ran his fingers through his hair and then began to massage the back of his neck. "That makes me feel _so_ much better."

The door was thrown open suddenly, and Cuddy charged in, spitting fire. She slammed the door behind her, glaring daggers at the two men, her entire body trembling from outrage. Marching over to her desk, she gripped the edge of it vise-like and Wilson figured that she would rather be strangling them instead.

"Well, you must be busy so we'll let you get back to whatever it is you do in here," House said quickly, avoiding her glare and grabbing Wilson by the arm to drag him to the door.

"Oh no you _don't_!" Cuddy growled through clenched teeth, her voice quavering from the effort it took to keep herself from yelling. "I've put up with a lot of shit from both of you over the years and overlooked most of it because it was almost always done in fun but this—_this—_is so over the line that you've crossed it more times than the moon has orbited the earth! If you both weren't so important to this hospital and damned amazing in your fields I would have had security throw you out the door on your asses already! Fortunately I managed to prevent Mrs. Stanton from witnessing that atrocity and lied through my teeth about seeing a mouse and being frightened by it. You violated my trust, showed me utter contempt, and hurt me _personally_ by this. By rights you both should be dismissed immediately."

"Oh, common on, Cuddy," House chided knowingly. "This doesn't come close to what I caught you and Lucas doing in the MRI room the other day. You know—the ol' scanning the sausage game Lucas seemed to like so well? By the way, the photographs I took turned out great! Good thing I brought my wide-angle lens to capture your entire ass in one shot—"

"House! I'm sorry, Cuddy," Wilson began but before he could say anything more a pen whizzed past his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw House duck as a marble paperweight headed straight for his head and hit the wall behind him instead. Cuddy had lost it, Wilson realized, as she picked up item after item and threw them at House and him.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Office. Before. I. Murder. You. Both!" the dean yelled in fury.

"Uh-oh," House said to Wilson, "she's PMS-ing! Let's get the hell out of here!"

House reached the door first and opened it, yelping when a hardcover book hit him between the shoulder blades. Wilson followed him but before he could make it out the door he felt something thin and sharp pierce his left side. It was the most extraordinary sensation—not exactly painful but more like a burning that followed a straight path deep inside of him. He stumbled out of the door into the clinic where stunned staff and patients watched. For a while he dumbly looked around at the faces staring at him, wondering why they were regarding him like that. Then he slowly shuffled for the exit, and the burning in his side started to hurt. He made it as far as the reception desk before someone noticed the letter opener's hilt sticking out of him and the growing red stain on his white shirt.

"Dr. Wilson, are you alright?" a nurse inanely asked even as he collapsed to the floor, on the side with the letter opener, his weight and the floor driving it even further into him. Wilson heard the same nurse yell out House's name, heard the syncopated click, step-step hurriedly approach, and saw House's widened blue eyes look at him worriedly, before he passed out.

**-H/W-**

"That's it, you can do it! Come on, Jimmy, wake up!"

Wilson felt something poke his shoulder. He opened his eyes slowly against the lighting and saw House perched on a stool next to his bed, nudging him with his cane. _Bed?_ Wilson frowned in confusion, and turned his head to look around at his surroundings. He was in the post-op recovery room. His brain was foggy from the anesthetic that was wearing off and the pain killers he'd been given to compensate. His throat was raw and sore from the tracheal tube that had been inserted for surgery and then removed once it was determined that Wilson was able to breathe on his own.

"It's about time," House told him, but the tone of his voice didn't match the impatient words he spoke; it was quiet and gentle to match his eyes. He looked exhausted, the lines around his baby blues and on his brow appearing deeper than usual and he had dark circles below his eyes. He moved to sit on the edge Wilson's bed and brushed a strand of hair off of his forehead.

"I was stabbed," Wilson croaked, his throat hurting him.

"With a letter opener," House answered, nodding. "A _big_ letter opener. It passed between your eleventh and twelfth ribs and when you fell on it you created a deep wound that punctured your spleen. You began to bleed into your abdominal cavity immediately, causing the drop in blood pressure that precipitated your passing out. Enough damage had been done to warrant an emergency splenectomy."

"Wow," Wilson murmured, wincing at the sensation of razor blades slicing the inside of his throat. House left briefly and returned with a cup of ice chips. He slid a few into Wilson's mouth and received an appreciative smile in return.

"Cuddy was arrested," House told him bluntly. Wilson almost choked on piece of ice.

"You're kidding?"

"She threw the letter opener that nearly killed you," House told him in confirmation. "Apparently, according to the police, after the first item she threw, which was obviously in a moment of passion, the others were considered thrown with premeditation and the intent to hit and injure us. One of the clinic patients was able to see her throw it through the open door and called the cops on her cellphone. She told them that it looked like Cuddy briefly aimed before throwing it. The police want to talk to you as soon as you're strong enough. I told them that wouldn't be anytime soon."

"House, you don't honestly believe she wanted to kill me, do you?" Wilson asked him skeptically. "She was just angry and justifiably so; what we did was really creepy and wrong."

"I don't know what her intent was," House answered darkly, "but it's interesting that all of the sharp and pointy items on her desk were aimed at you. Usually she reserves those for me. What we did was not heinous enough to deserve what happened to you. A momentary burst of rage stopped being an excuse when she picked up the second item."

"It was just so not like Cuddy to do that," Wilson insisted, finding that the act of breathing disturbed his wound enough to cause him pain. "She may have meant for me to suffer a sting or a bruise but she certainly wasn't trying to kill me. I have no intention of pressing charges."

"I don't think it matters whether you do or don't," House informed him. "She was charged with attempted murder and aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. They don't need your approval to arrest her for committing a felony. Chances are they'll end up dropping the murder charge but the assault charge isn't going to leave her with a slap on the wrist either."

"But what will happen to Rachel if Cuddy is behind bars?" Wilson asked in concern. "That little girl needs her mother."

"She has Lucas to look after Rachel while she's in the big house," his partner told him with an indifferent shrug. "Besides, he spends more time with Rachel on a daily basis than her mother does. The kid will be fine."

Wilson shook his head. "House, this is wrong."

"Forgive me if I'm not all that sympathetic to her plight. Ever since you and I began to make the creature with two backs she's been even bitchier than she was before. Besides, her temper tantrum nearly took you away from me forever. I'm not sure I can forgive her for that."

Wilson knew better than to argue with him, and House did have a point. He didn't want to believe that Cuddy had meant to do him serious harm; she'd thrown objects at House, too. That, however, was a weak argument, considering the hostile state of relations between the two of them and her since the crane disaster and her accidental discovery that night.

She'd shown up at House's apartment about an hour after Wilson had and found House and him making love. Though she had never said so, Wilson suspected she had gone there that night to tell House that she loved him and was going to dump Lucas. Her jealousy of Wilson became evident to all around the hospital and things were very rocky between her and Lucas for several weeks after that. Rumor had it that she'd dumped Lucas _before_ she even got to House's apartment that evening and when she'd discovered Wilson and House together she had gone back home and convinced Lucas to take her back. The fool must love her because he'd done just that.

He saw in House's eyes a remnant of the sheer panic he must have felt as soon as he'd discovered that Wilson had been felled by a life-threatening injury. Reaching out, Wilson grabbed hold of one of House's hands, squeezing it comfortingly.

"She didn't take me away; I'm right here with you," he murmured. "It would take more than Cuddy to tear me away. Besides, I think a couple of your nine lives have rubbed off on me."

"_Nine_ lives?" House echoed, smirking now, "Pfft! I've already used up _at least_ ten over the years so I had to have been born with more than nine to screw around with."

Wilson chuckled and then grimaced, holding his abdomen over the incision due to the pain, reminiscent of his recovery period following donating a portion of his liver to a so-called friend.

"You need more pain meds," House told him but Wilson wouldn't let go of his hand to allow him to arrange it. Instead he weakly tugged on House's arm.

"Shut up, get down here, and give me a kiss!"

Grinning at that, House leaned over him and kissed him tenderly before pulling away.

"So what do you say?" he asked Wilson, wagging his eyebrows. "Next time in back seat of Foreman's car?"

_**~fin~**_

.


End file.
